To Stay Here For a While
by aliencatt
Summary: Sam wants to stay still for a while and just be. Dean knows they do not have the time. FAO...SLASH, Wincest,OMC,
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended. i'm a fan.

* * *

**'To Stay Here for a While'**. (March08)

**FAO**

Sam, Dean, Ruby, Bobby

**slash**...Sam/ OMC ... Sam/Dean ... Sam/ ? (don't want to spoil)

**warnings**...m/m - coercion – incest – **so be warned**

Set a week after of E12 S03 (Jus in Bello)

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He was uncomfortable. None too sure what it was about the bar, but something was bothering him. Not Sam though. He had done nothing but glance around from under that too long fringe and, amazingly, seemed to be relaxing. Sam never relaxed. Not recently anyway, but looking at him now, leaning back in the corner of the low booth, he was relaxing. There was no other word for it.

Dean glanced around and caught the eye of a passing young woman. She smiled then headed over to the bar, ordering, then glanced back at him. Well, that was how it should be but there was still, something. Sam had picked this place saying, to Dean's objection, that for once he wanted to sit in a bar that actually felt clean and not as if they had forgotten to put the sawdust down. So he had relented.

The woman moved off, smiling on her way past and he watched as she handed the extra beer to an equally attractive friend and, after a brief conversation, both looked over at him laughing lightly, lifting the beers in salute. That was definitely more like it. His imagination went into overdrive.

"You want another?"

"Huh?" turning back to look at Sam.

"You want another?" Sam asked lifting his empty bottle already sliding out of the booth.

"Yeah." And his attention went back to the ladies who, weren't there anymore. "Damn!" under his breath. So he watched Sam at the bar where he was stood nervously glancing to his right then back at the bartender as he took his order. He could not see what was making his brother so nervous but it seemed that anxious, almost excited nervousness that usually heralded an attractive presence. He carried on watching but could not see anyone. He looked around once more studying the place then back at Sam who was now talking to another man just about his own age.

Dean's interest waned and he set to scanning the room again. There was a pool table. Maybe he could make some money? But the group around it did not seem intent on the game. It was just something to stand and talk around.

Sam was back, putting the beer in front of him and sitting down, all the time looking off towards the same pool table with the group of what looked like collage or university types surrounding it. He thought he'd noticed some type of big school thing on the way into town.

"So. You want to go somewhere else?" Dean had had enough. The music was all modern pop stuff but at least it wasn't too loud, but please?

"No. I'm fine here." not looking at his brother but over his shoulder.

"It's a bit… you know" gesturing aimlessly with the bottle.

"What? Clean? Civilised? Unlikely to have a bar room brawl?" Sam finally turned his attention back to his brother raising an eyebrow.

"No. You know."

"What?" starting to feel angry and nervous all at the same time. He knew exactly what Dean was finding hard to say.

"Come on Sammy. This isn't our type of place." He hadn't even managed to find any bar snacks and was now yearning for something spicy.

Sam had had enough of always following Dean into one of 'their' type of bars. He did not normally care, as they would be gone the next day, but after what they had just been through, Dean had finally agreed to stay in one place, at least for a few days or until they were forced to move on. He wanted to relax a bit and, if possible, be around people who knew nothing of the dangers they faced. To mix with people who worried about mundane things and had no knowledge of daemon attacks or other paranormal manifestations.

Sam wanted to talk music, film, theatre and even fashion, anything that ordinary people spoke about. In this university town, he figured, he could possible get to talk to people with similar interests and occupations as he himself had had before Dean turned up in his kitchen near three years before.

He loved Dean intensely but sometimes, just sometimes, he wanted to be with people who knew what a knife and fork were for. He had immediately felt guilt at the snobbish thought but it did not make it any less true.

"I'm fine here." It came out more harshly than intended causing Dean to sit back slightly stung. But he sort of hoped he would leave and go somewhere else. He was worried that Dean's attitude would keep people at bay. He was trying to decide how best to gain entry into the group around the pool table, although there was very little actual pool being played.

"Sam? Is there something you want to tell me?"

Yes, but looking at that smirk, he knew Dean had not seriously being enquiring. He gave him a disgusted look because it really was time that Dean realised Sam had his own tastes and attractions, Bella aside. He was sure he was not the only one dreaming about that infuriating woman. And not about getting even either. "Just leave it."

"Would you like a game of pool?"

'Wow' Dean thought, Sam said that with out moving his lips, then together they turned to look up at the same young man who had been talking to Sam at the bar.

"No were leaving."

"I'd love to." Both speaking at once, causing the man to look from one to the other with a confused smile to his lips. He backed off slightly raising a hand. "Sorry. I didn't mean to get in the middle of anything."

"You're not" said Sam rising to stand beside him. "David, this is my brother, Dean. Dean, David." He was pleased to see the relief on David's face and amused at the begrudging look on Dean's as they shook hands, not at Dean's prompting.

"I'm out of here. Nice to meet you, David." Dean said thinking Sam would appreciated the pleasantry, if not expect it and left wondering what the hell Sam was playing at? "See you later, Sam." But it was more of a question and all he got was a shrug for reply. He left desperately wanting to look back but thought, 'just get out of here. He's old enough and can damn sure look after himself. Yeah, right'.

Leaving the bar Dean glanced around. He needed something loud, run down and now was defiantly spoiling for a fight. He should go back in there and drag Sam out. Couldn't his brother see where that invitation of pool was leading? He'd known there was something about that bar. Serve his brother right if he ended up having to watch his ass, literally. He stood stock still. Damn it Sam?

Why the hell had he never told him? He thought of all the times they'd been mistaken for a couple and wondered why Sam had always gotten so annoyed and defensive about it if he did swing that way occasionally. He started walking again. Then he thought of all the wisecracks and comments he himself had made. 'Damn it Dean! No wonder Sam had never said anything'.

He could be wrong. He must be wrong. Maybe Sam just needed a break. A break from him. They _had_ been through a hell of a lot lately. He laughed ironically at his turn of phrase just as his shoulder decided to hurt. At least it had not been his drinking arm. Getting shot was bad enough but that would have been plain insulting.

But Sam was not like that. No, he was not queer or gay or bi or whatever. Not his brother. He was just … intellectual, clean, sensitive…he was just Sam. Again he thought of all the ribbing he had given him recently, all the names and voices and Dean felt like crap.

He straightened his shoulders and carried on walking, decision made. Sam was Sam. Nothing else mattered. He was his brother and, if it turned out that he occasionally liked to take it in the ass, so be it. It did not change anything. He was still the brother he was going to Hell for and he was still worth it.

As if by an extrasensory perception of his own, Dean could tell it was near. He stopped, cast around and, whether it was by the noise, the smell or that sixth sense, knew he had found his type of bar. He walked in accompanied by the sound of breaking glass. "Yes!" and grinning made his way to the bar.

==000==

"Wha….What time is it?" slowly surfacing as he realised Sam was back and stood at the bottom of the bed. He peered over the violently geometrical bedspread and groaned at the disapproving visage that met him. He pulled the covers back over his head and hid. He was in no mood to face that rebuke. His head felt like it was filled with dancing lumberjacks and something had done something unpleasant on his tongue.

After finding that bar, he had had one hell of a good night. Ending on his own being the only let down but as soon as he had gotten back to the motel it had been a relief. He had drunk so much and had eaten one of the hottest chilli's he'd had outside of New Mexico and imagined that his breath could kill.

"It stinks in here!"

'Bitch. Bitch. Bitch' thought Dean to the sound of the window being opened with a tortured squeal. It must be bad as usually they practically barricaded themselves in. He tried again and managed to sit up scooting back to lean against the leatherette headboard scrubbing at his face with both hands. Owe, what the hell? He prodded at his cheekbone, carefully, then felt at his teeth. It had been an enjoyable fight. A proper fight. Nobody dishes Metallica! And they'd all shared a beer before singing their way into the night. Good times.

Now looking over at Sam, who was sort of just stood there, he could not tell whether he had had a good night or not. He glanced at the bedside clock. Ten twenty. So it couldn't have been that bad. He'd stayed out all night but where, he wanted to know? It was not any of his business but since when had that stopped him? "So give."

"What?"

"Where were you?"

"Out," totally none committal and he was fiddling with the fastening on his jacket so obviously not wanting a conversation they both knew they needed.

Dean tried again and he reminded himself to keep any wisecracks to himself. Sam was stood there looking so vulnerable. He really wanted to take the piss out of him but knew he could never be forgiven as it would surely hurt as Sam looked scared. So just act as if nothing life changing had happened. As far as he knew this was not life changing for Sam, just him. "Do you like him?"

"Yes," softly spoken and still not looking at him.

"Are you going to see him again?" he could not believe he was managing to be so calm.

"I hope so," and Sam finally looked at Dean, sort of glancing up as he moved to sit on the other bed facing him but still playing with the zip on his jacket.

"So tell me all," hoping to sound supportive.

Sam just looked up at him from under that fringe stating the absurdity of telling his brother anything about his sex life. Then he sighed. "Dean. Are you okay with this?" and went back to his zip.

Dean could not help but smile. He had an image, a memory, of when they were much younger, long before Sam had left Dad and him, when he still idolised his big brother. Sam had asked him in hushed tones to tell him what sex was like, sat more or less in the same position, that time toying with the laces on a pump, one on one off. That had seemed to be so important to him too. He remembered he had told him outrageous things seeing the excitement, shock and finally horror on the young teenagers face that he thought he might have successfully put him off sex for life.

"Sam. Why shouldn't I be okay? It's your life. That's what we keep fighting for. Who am I to tell you what you can or can't do with it?"

There was a slight lopsided grin on Sam's face. 'Yeah', Dean admitted, he was always telling Sam what he should do.

"Why'd you never tell me?" but guessed he had already answered that himself last night and, at the look he was getting off Sam, head to one side brows slightly raised, he laughed and was relieved that Sam was finally looking at him and laughing too.

He slid out of bed and pulling Sam's head to his stomach, gave him a sort of hug only to be pushed off none too gently. Looking over from his sprawled position on his bed he looked askance. He had just been trying to be sensitive or something. "Wha…?"

"Dean. You stink!" and getting up to move to the table housing his laptop added, "At least I had a shower this morning." Then blushed, ducking his head.

Dean decided, he did not want to know after all, and smirking, headed to the bathroom via slapping Sam over the back of the head.

==000==

TBC...


	2. Chapter 2

==000==

"…Yes I'd like that….no, I'll meet you there…..great, I'll see you at seven…bye…bye." and he smiled as he switched off the phone and sat elbows on the table a happy expression making his face seem so much younger. Dean watched from the doorway, towel wrapped around his waist as he used another to dry his hair. He had not seen him look that happy, that hopeful in along time. Damn, he did not think he could remember for sure exactly when.

He had a date. The thought made Sam smile. He had not had a real date since before he moved in with Jessica. The smile left his lips and he got up with a sigh and seeing Dean watching him from the doorway. "What!"

Shrugging Dean came into the room and said seriously, "I'm happy for you Sammy. I truly am."

He did not know how to reply. He would have expected a lewd comment or an outright insult. So now he broached the subject he had been thinking about before the phone call, while waiting on tenterhooks for that very phone call. "Dean. I want to stay here for a while."

"Sure, no problem. We got nowhere to be at the moment. We can use the time seeing if we can track that bitch Bella down." His cheeks coloured in remembered anger. When he got his hands on her …!

"No Dean. '_I'_ want to stay here for a while."

Dean looked up at him from his place on the bed. He had been right, Sam needed a break from him. He could see him begging for understanding but there was a reality to deal with. But before he touched on that he asked, "It's going that well? Sammy you've only just met him. You ready to set up house already?" He flinched in response to Sam's. Shit. So much for quitting the smart remarks.

"That's not it. Not all anyway." Sam was fiddling again, this time with a button on his shirt. Very quietly, as if he feared Dean's wrath, "I just want to stay still for a while." He knew that they were running out of time but he just could not keep running. He did not know if they were running from, or running to something. He was tired and he needed to belong somewhere, if only for a little while. He would not give up on Dean. Could not. But this he needed for himself. If that was selfish, so be it.

Dean stared at him. They did not have the time or the luxury to just stay here. _He_ did not have the time. He needed to find Bella and, more importantly, 'the colt'. _And,_ he had to find someway to break this deal without appearing to 'weasel' out of it, to trick his way out. They had to find a way to stop him going to Hell without Sammy dropping down dead and also possibly heading down.

"What then?" Dean was trying to remain calm, to be 'understanding', but they did not have time for a holiday. He was running out of it and though he knew damn well that Sam could look after himself once he was gone, he was not certain that it would be the same Sam. He did not think it could be, because without Sam, he was not the same. They needed each other, now more than ever. Dean had a physical pain in his belly at the thought of being without Sam. He could not, would not lose him and that included leaving him here to play house with some guy that had picked him up in a 'bar'!

How could he explain this to Dean? It was just too much to cover up. Sam could feel something inside him that was trying to burst to the surface and knew he could never allow it as, once out, he would not be able to calm the 'beast'. He had noticed that he had been becoming more violent and not worrying too much about it 'in the heat of the action'. It was only a matter of time before innocent people died because of him.

Not as before, when they had been killed by others to get to him, but by him. And he knew that Dean and Bobby knew it to. He had overheard them talking. They already thought him altered. Dean had never admitted it but he caught it on his face sometimes, just an instant, but there. Although he was certain his brother was not aware that Sam knew Dean thought that he might be becoming evil, he did. He was not too sure himself. He knew the answer to Dean's question to Bobby, he had come back different. He needed time. He needed to be still so he could figure this all out and, somehow, put a stop to the sliding.

"I need to think. I need to be still in one place and think. I need to work out what we're going to do. I need to understand what is happening to me, to us, and what we can do about it. I need to have the ground firm beneath my feet instead of constantly on the road. And Yes. I want to spend time with David. I just want to do ordinary. I want to go to the movies, to eat pizza and feel wanted."

"If I have ever made you feel unwanted I am truly sorry." And Dean meant it.

"No. I know what you mean but that's not what I mean. I want to be touched, held, kissed and by someone ordinary. Not by someone who's cursed or inhuman." He swung around leaning forwards on the chair pinning Dean with a desperate expression. "Please can you understand?"

Yes he did. He wanted so much to be everything to Sam, just as Sam was to him, but was intelligent and realistic enough to know, there were some things that he could not provide, no matter how much he longed to be Sam's whole world. He also knew that, when you needed others, you got hurt. He wanted Sam to stop being hurt. _He_ wanted to stop being hurt. But looking at Sam now, yet again, he could not deny him.

Dean felt twelve years old again, getting that dismal motel room ready for Christmas. He had always wanted to make Sam happy, right through childhood, adolescence and early adulthood. He was unsure which of them had been most hurt by Sam turning his back on them, his father or him, his brother.

"I do, I think, but don't think for one minute that I'm going to drive off into the sunset and leave you here. Wherever you are I am. And that's not going to change."

Sam smiled at the earnest expression on his brother's face. Damn he loved him for and in spite of all his faults. "You are not coming on my date with me."

"Fine!" mock indignant, "But if we're staying here, we are going to use the time usefully. We are going to track down 'the colt' and keep on with the research."

"And you won't go out of your way to find a hunt for us?"

"No, but if we have to go we have to go." He studied Sam's face, "Sammy? Promise me?"

Sam nodded bowing to the inevitable. He hoped desperately they would be able to stay for a while. He really did like David.

Dean got up and moved to his holdall. Rooting about, he pulled out a thin leather throng holding a charm. He handed it to Sam. "Make him wear this."

Taking it, Sam recognised the charm to prevent daemon possession. "Right. How do I do that? Oh by the way, go out with me and you might get possessed. Wear this, just in case. That's going to go down real well."

"And you think one of 'em wouldn't just 'cause you like him?"

Sam had to agree. Anyone that was to get even remotely intimate with either of them could be a target. What easier way to get close to them? Dean moved and took it out of his hand holding it up. "Looks like the sort of thing you college types wear without knowing what it is." Ignoring Sam's pained expression he handed it back, "Just make it a gift."

"It's a bit soon." Embarrassed to be talking of such things with Dean. They weren't teenagers anymore.

Dean laughed incredulously, "So, all you did was play pool till ten this morning then?" then laughed in delight at the colour Sam turned. "Way to go bro'" He'd sort of gotten over the fact that Sam had spent the night with a man instead of a woman, but either way his little brother had scored. About time too in his opinion. He moved off laughing to himself and got dressed. "You hungry?" as his stomach rebelled at having nothing in it.

"No. I've eaten already."

"I'm bet you have," under his breath.

"What was that?"

"Nada." Laughing to himself. And there was no way he was not going along on this date. There was something he had to do as he knew Sam would not even if he thought of it.

==000==

They had spent the afternoon in the university library hoping that it may have a section of books the town one did not. They had some luck but it soon ran out as they found nothing of any help. Dean had spent a fruitless couple of hours on the web trying to find any indication of the missing colt, auction sites public and not, but to no reward.

About five o'clock they had both started to fidget but for differing reasons. Dean's patience for new technology, and for research full stop, had long run out and Sam wanted to get back to the motel to get ready.

The time seemed to drag but finally, a pimped and primped handsome young man shouted something like, "Don't wait up" and was gone before Dean could look up from the TV saying, "Wha…?" to an empty room.

==000==

Sam 'hid' around the corner keeping an eye on the entrance to the cinema. Damn he was nervous. This was ridiculous. He did not want to be late but he did not want to be hanging about in front of the theatre looking desperate. But if he was not there on time would David think he had changed his mind and leave?

He moved to walk around, changed his mind and hung back looking at his watch. Five minutes to seven. He had been here since half past six not being able to contend with Dean's purposeful watching of television. It had put his nerves on edge.

Him, who had faced down spirits, fairytales, urban legends and daemons. He had bolted before Dean made any comments. The raised eyebrow had been enough, seen in the reflection as he had checked out his appearance in the wardrobe mirror. So sue him if he thought he should look good. That he did look good. He hoped he was not the only one to think so. David had arrived and damn, he did look good. And kind of nervous which made Sam feel a whole lot better.

Straightening his clothes needlessly and his hair once more, he took a deep breath and walked around the corner as if he had not been waiting near half an hour. He was gratified by the smile that met him and acquiesced to the suggestion that they go for something to eat before going in. There were plenty of showings at the multi screen.

With an inward smile Sam chose pizza when asked and hardly ate anything as they found that they had plenty in common to talk about with not one mention of the strange or unusual. He laughed more than in living memory and when the conversation fell silent, it did not feel awkward, just a natural pause.

Having a beer, Sam looked at his companion but said nothing. He just wanted to look at him and realised that this _was_ why he wanted to stay. All the rest that he had told Dean was true, but they could have settled in anywhere. He wanted to be here and he wanted to spend time with this man, just a few years younger than himself, and he did not want anything to happen to him.

A brief shadow must have crossed his face as he thought that the safest thing for David would be if he walked out now and never looked back. "What is it?" a question and a hand so welcome on his arm reaching across the table.

Sam looked into the open gaze and said sheepishly, "I bought you something." And feeling really foolish, pulled out the charm from his pocket scrunched up in his hand. Seeing the smile in the waiting grey eyes, he took David's hand and slowly placed the corded necklace in it. "It's not much. Just thought you might like it." And shrugged as if it didn't matter but of course it did.

He wanted his date to be pleased at the giving and also to like it. Dean had been right. People wore this sort of thing all the time. Anything that looked slightly mystic was popular whilst rarely knowing what the copied symbol actually meant. He envied them their ignorance.

"What does it mean?" David asked, holding the small talisman up to study the design.

Sam was nervous as he did not want to have to explain its true significance but pleased also at the interest. That was something that he liked about him and, he supposed, why the man was at university. He had an inquiring mind, a phrase he had often read about himself in the school reports he had brought home for his parents. It had always been Dean that had bothered to read them and to be enthused about his good grades. Their father had never to his knowledge even read one. 'Don't drift off' he told himself.

"Protection." He stated simply with a smile.

"From what? You?" asked with a mischievous twinkle as the young man put the leather thong over his head and adjusted the knots that Sam had altered to make it look bought.

"Everything but me." He grinned in reply.

"Thank you." Pressing it to his throat. David looked around quickly then raised, up leaning over the table, and kissed him none too quickly on the lips before sitting back, smiling and taking a swig on his bottle. "You want to get out of here?"

Sam glanced at the wall clock. They had been in here for over three hours just talking, laughing and, he realised, drinking. "I think it's a bit late to go to the movies." Also taking a drink.

And, calling for the bill, David looked at him blatantly and said, "I know."

On the way out David was jostled and asked, "What the hell?" as the figure hurried away and he was left shaking water out of his shirt and off his hands.

"You alright?" Sam asked concerned holding on to him. He had not had chance to see who had knocked into them but was not happy about it.

"Yeah." Laughing smelling at a hand. "It's only water." And thinking nothing more about it headed for the door.

Sam waited a moment, looking around suspicion on his face then, seeing nothing, followed and caught up with his partner before walking off into the night.

'Well thank the Lord for that!' Dean thought putting the flask of Holy water back in his pocket and then also went out into the night. There was a bar with a stool with his name on waiting for him, and he was ready for a rematch with that chilli.

==000==

"It's about damn time you showed up. I called you hours ago!" he was not happy and carried on angrily stuffing clothes into his holdall. He had begun to think he was going to have to go and get Sam even if it meant dragging his sorry ass out of that David's bed. "I've already packed for you." Turning to face him and coming up short as he realised Sam had not come alone. Dean stood up and fixed him with an, 'I'm not pissing about here' look. "Your 'friend' Ruby showed up. We gotta leave. Now."

"I know." And the look in his eyes nearly broke Dean's heart. They had been here less than a week but obviously plenty long enough for Sam to have gone past infatuation and straight into love. This was going to tear him apart but at least they would be leaving this one alive. They could, theoretically, come back.

Dean nodded at the student, "David." Then to Sam, "I'll load up" and picking up both bags moved past them outside. There was nothing else they could do but leave. Ruby reckoned they had been found and Lilith was on her way if not here already. And they were not ready to face her, it. He had come to that conclusion spending his time here trying to find out as much as he could about the daemon. No one had been able to help and, on speaking to their dwindling contacts, they had nothing new to report. There were a number of people working on his 'problem' but with no discernable success. He lent back against the Impala and waited for Sam to finish his goodbyes, if that was ever truly possible.

Eventually, five minutes or so later, the couple came out of the motel room both looking like their puppy had died. He could not look at Sam. But got into the car and started her up, backing away and turning her ready to leave as soon as Sam got in. He did not have to wait long as, without a word, Sam got in and sat looking into the wing mirror.

Sam watched as Dean so slowly pulled away heading for the road. He watched as David stood watching them then was distracted by a young girl. He watched a conversation apparently about the necklace he had given him. He saw David smile, touch it and shake his head. Sam was relieved. He had sort of gotten him to promise to never take it off but he could not count on it. He watched as the little blond girl touched David. He grabbed onto Dean's arm just before he jumped out of the car and ran.

Dean braked and, looking puzzled into the rear-view mirror, saw Sam running to the still figure of David lying where they had left him. He also saw a blur as what he thought was a little girl ran away. He reversed the car then got out to stand nonplussed as Sam held the limp body of his lover, begging him to wake up.

Dean pulled Sam aside as he was in no condition to think straight. He tested for a pulse, tried CPR but all to no avail. A perfectly healthy young man had just died and Sam was bordering on hysterical, not that he could blame him. He was babbling about a girl and, glancing at him, Dean laid a gentle hand on David's corpse and turned to the living.

Sam was frantically looking around turning from right to left searching and then went still. Dean looked around lost as to what was happening. He watched as Sam ran at a girl, about seven years old, screaming at her, "What did you do?" and come up short as if pole axed. Dean caught up to him and saw the white eyes.

"You may have forgotten about me, Samuel Winchester, but I have not forgotten about you." And she ran off onto the street. Sam went to follow but Dean grabbed him, holding fast to him.

"Get off me! She killed him. Let me go!" trying desperately to pull away from him.

"Think Sammy. It's in a little girl. What are people going to do if they see you attack a little girl?"

"But she killed him!"

"I know. I'm so sorry Sam." Grabbing him and holding on, wrapping him in his arms managing to hold the taller frame until he stilled, then slumped, his hands clutching at Dean's shoulders painfully. "We have to go." He said gently then guided his brother back to the car, to the body.

"Wait." Sam knelt by David's body stroking his face, holding a hand. "I am so sorry." And leant down to kiss his already cooling lips. He picked up the charm rubbing a thumb over it. It had not helped after all. He gently removed it and, wrapping it around his own wrist, knew he would be the one to never take it off now.

"Come on Sam. We have to go." Dean could hear sirens and had no delusions as to who had phoned for them.

"We can't just leave him here."

Oh the anguish made Dean's heart hurt for Sam afresh. "We have to. Come on." Still gently, but firmly, he pulled Sam up by the arm and forced him into the Impala. He could not stop him turning around and staring back all the way to the road and a mile down it.

Slowly Sam turned forwards in his seat and then, his face falling into hands, sobbed as if his heart had not just broken but shattered.

==000==

The little girl walked slowly to stand gazing down at the body. Head to one side she smiled then collapsed.

When the paramedics and police arrived at the motel they were shocked to find the broken body of a seven year old child lying sprawled on the ground all alone.

==000==

TBC...


	3. Chapter 3

==000==

Dean sat on the edge of Sam's bed slowly stroking his hair back from his face. He had mercifully stopped crying but now just lay there holding tightly onto the pillow under his cheek staring at nothing in the room. Someone else was dead due to him. Someone else he loved was dead. Because of him. Why the hell did Dean make that stupid deal? If he had not, Sam would not now be here to cause the deaths on a list that was steadily growing.

The war that was happening would not need to be fought and all those innocents caught in the middle would be alright. David would never have met him and would be happy and alive playing pool in his favourite bar with his friends and the man, sat so patiently stroking his hair, would not be heading to Hell in a few short months.

He turned his eyes to focus on his brother. His seemingly ever patient brother. He knew that wasn't really accurate but he had been comforting him for two days now, never saying anything that was not supportive and he loved this feeling of fingers in his hair. David had soon discovered that. His eyes welled up once more.

'Awe Sammy. What can I do to stop you hurting so much?' It's something Dean had asked himself over and over but knew the only thing that would help Sam was time and maybe revenge. The first they did not have enough of, but the second they had a shot at. Once more he swore mightily at Bella. They needed the Colt back. He had spoken to Bobby to find out if it was possible for him to make another, but the man had not been hopeful, especially without the help of Ruby and they had not heard a peep from her since the flying visit. She had not hung around long enough to see the aftermath of her warning, a warning that came too late as it turned out.

Dean could not see how leaving would have made any difference but Sam was convinced David would still be alive if he had not been there to witness his death. He had conceded the point. It made a sort of twisted sense, just another ploy to truly mess with Sam's head and heart. And it had worked.

Sam pushed himself up and Dean took the opportunity to twist around, to sit leaning back against the headboard feeling how stiff his spine was. He had lost track of time only vaguely aware of his hunger. Not the time to mention it as Sam's effort lost steam and looking at him, as if asking for permission, collapsed against him head on his chest. He surrounded him with an arm then, almost absentmindedly began stoking his hair once more leaning his own head back. Closing his eyes he felt his throat tighten and he too could have cried but knew he had to be strong for Sammy. Again.

==000==

He had to pull himself together. Dean needed him strong and aware or they were both lost. He had been so generous to him giving him precious days just to grieve. And he had needed them. Would continue to grieve. It was not humanly possible to get over something like this quickly. Deep inside he was relieved because it was a purely human reaction and he had been scared that he was slowly losing the essence that made him so. He sighed and glanced out of the window not really seeing the small run down town they were passing through. He froze.

It was not possible. He knew it was not possible, but, as his head turned to look back, he was momentarily convinced. Dean noticed and asked, "What is it? What did you see?"

"Nothing." Sam assured him because without doubt, that could not have been David, stood looking at him as they drove past. His brow furrowed and folding his arms he hankered down in the seat staring at the dash board. "How far to Bobby?" changing the subject.

They had received a call that afternoon from Bobby telling them he had heard of a possible sighting of the elusive Bella. Sam had expected that she had left the States completely and was probably living it up across Europe on the money from the pistol.

How the hell could she do that to them? She was a thief and con artist, but what did she do with all the money? She was good at what she did. She had got them on more than one occasion but this had been one step too far and he really did worry that Dean would follow through on his threat. It had sounded far more a promise. Bella must have believed him or she would have been back to plague them. Something had kept her coming back and he did not think it was Dean's usually infallible charm.

"We should be there by ten. But Bobby won't be there. He's in Wyoming."

"What's in Wyoming?" disinterestedly.

Dean hesitated to say anything. He thought of lying as Sam surely did not need anymore reminders of lost loves. He made a decision and watched surreptitiously as he answered, "Lycanthrope."

"Oh" was all he said numbly.

Dean shook his head minutely. He was really worried. Sam was far from 'on his game' and, they may have had a slight lull, but it obviously would not last and, as he was, Sam ran the risk of 'letting his end down'. He hated to admit it, but he was not sure he could trust Sam to have his back. He had to do something. If this sighting did not pan out and, he grudgingly admitted, they were not that lucky, a simple hunt could help snap Sam back. It was worth a shot.

It could not have been him, could not have been David. Just someone with a passing resemblance that was all. It happens. It happened a lot after Jessica was murdered. She did not die. She was murdered and so was David. His stomach cramped. "Dean? If this tip doesn't work out, I think we should look for a hunt."

Dean looked at the serious expression, studying him. His own thoughts, but he looked askance. He often did now when it involved Sam and killing, killing anything. It did not bother his brother as it used to, before. But since he had been brought back, Sam worried him and he knew Bobby was decidedly nervous around him. Hell, Sam had been hunted himself and not just by daemons. So what was he thinking, because he had an inkling it was not the reasoning he had used?

"You sure?"

"Yes." adamant. "Why?"

Dean shrugged. "Okay." Something simple he thought. He would have to find something quick before Sam got into research mode. He hazarded that he would lead then into something neither was ready for. -

As Dean had almost come to expect, the sighting of Bella was false. The woman did look like her but the accent and manners where all pure, US of A. Sam had become morose. He was constantly looking around him as if searching for someone. Dean had asked about it but got nothing in return. In fact, Sam had become snappish with him. He needed a drink. He was drained with all this emotion.

He fought not to feel selfish about it but he had been there for Sam. Was here for him, just as he should be, and Sam had turned on him and had basically just told him to 'go forth and multiply', but with fewer words. Dean wanted to go, wanted to have a bit of space and time to himself but did not think it wise to leave Sam to his own devises. He was certain to find trouble, if it did not find him first. He chose the compromise and followed Sam at a distance as he stormed off. And thankfully he headed into the nearest bar.

==000==

Dean was drunk. Sam was drunk. The difference being that Dean had spent what was left of the evening happily flirting with a group of giggling women and Sam had knocked someone out cold. A good point in the evening to vacate the area. Hauling his semi conscious, taller brother through the dark streets, he was kind of pleased. This was what normal people got up to. Go out. Get drunk. Have a flirt. Have a fight. Ordinary, the word popped into his fuzzy brain.

There was no such thing as 'normal'. Or rather everyone was normal, normal to themselves. His brain froze up. Dean could never be considered a philosopher at the best of times and with the amount of beer in his system, he was lucky breathing came naturally.

Finally he managed to get the mumbling, now practically comatose, weight of his brother through the door and dumped him onto the nearest bed in their motel room. He looked around. Nodding his head, for once the decor was not bad at all. Quiet refined. Locking them in, he started to strip Sam of his boots, jacket and, getting him down to boxers, failed to get the lump under the covers so just left him there on Dean's own bed as, mumbling, he saw to his own 'comfort'.

The world was spinning in a leisurely manner and it was sobbing. Dean looked up and around groggily, disorientated. The lights still on, he saw Sam curled up on top of the sheets shivering and crying once more. He hoped he would stop this soon but guessed the alcohol was having its usual affect on inhibitions. He could not take it so sitting up carefully called across softly, "Sammy" but got no response. Shifting he sat and reached out a hand placing it on a bare shoulder. Sam was cold and froze instantly.

"Sammy. Please stop this," Dean pleaded.

Sam just curled tighter and said something indecipherable. "Come on Sam. Come here." And pulling on him, Dean encouraged him to sit up. "You're freezing." But he just sat there staring at the floor. "Get up. Come on. Get up and get under the covers."

And he did. Sam followed his instructions in silence bar a sniffing. Dean stood looking down at him after tucking him in. The eyes gazing up at him, looking to him, were so beseeching, so full of pain and longing for an end to sadness.

"Damn it! Move over," and Dean slid himself in next to the cold, stiff frame. It reminded him of old times when Sam would wake from a nightmare calling out for Dad, who of course, was not there. It was him, Dean, who had soothed him, had hugged him and rocked him to sleep. And now all these years later he found himself pulling his younger brother, his younger half, into his arms and being the big brother, protecting his sibling from the terrors of the night.

For his part, Sam was so grateful. Dean was alive, so vital, so warm. There was a pain in his cheek and he pulled back slightly to pick up the hard shape which had been digging into face. Relaxing back he slowly managed to focus on the pendent. Fingering it he smiled. It was originally meant for their father but, once again, he had let them down, so he had given it to Dean who was never without it, would not take it off.

Letting it go, his arm moved to lie on the firm torso while listening to the heart beat, so solid and reliable, his hand pressing onto that strength that was lacking in himself. His hand slid down and around to Dean's waist and, as he felt those fingers in his hair, found himself pushing down and around to hold onto his thigh under the briefs. Dean took in a surprised breath and Sam felt, as well as heard, his heart rate quicken thumping against his chest.

Dean had been drifting off into sleep again with Sammy secure in his arms quieting relaxing. His fingers played with Sam's hair, something he had found he did without thinking, but it seemed to sooth him. But something changed. Suddenly he was brought back to the here and now by a hand being thrust onto his buttock and thigh.

He could feel warm shallow breaths on his stomach and wished that, without moving, somehow he could be bare chested. His fingers stopped their playing and caught hold of the hair running through them. His body was responding sluggishly but, with a squeeze from that hand as it moved around further and the brunette head pressing more firmly against his chest, his body caught up and its intention became evident.

The weight on his left shifted to be on him more and Dean pulled that head back wanting to find the mouth with his own and, through half closed eyes stared at the face, stared into the hazel, somewhat glazed, eyes of his brother.

What the hell? Dean was suddenly sober. The hand now firmly grasping his ass was that of his brother. "Sam!" but Sam was just staring at his mouth, at his lips, his own parted waiting. "Sammy. No." What was happening? Did he think he was somewhere else? With someone else? Had he forgotten and thought he was with his student?

"Dean. Please."

That answered that then. But this wasn't right. They couldn't do this. He had to put a stop to this before anything else happened. Anything. Dean's mind was way ahead of his body now. That had not changed its opinion.

He sat forwards grasping Sam by his shoulders pushing him away, pushing him off him. "What are you doing?" he pulled the hand off his ass. It would not come easily. Sam was not willing to acquiesce. He wanted to be angry, he should be, but the look in Sam's eyes was hurting him. It was so full of longing and need but he was not the person who should be fulfilling it. Sam should not want him to be.

It had felt so good to be held, sheltered and enfolded by the strong arms. All Sam knew was that it helped. He felt better. He had not thought he could feel anything but the shuddering heaviness of his heart ever again. He was striving for comfort and warmth in the one place left to him, where he would never be turned away. And it just seemed right that, with feeling the growing interest pressing against his waist, he should do something about it.

Their relationship was so intense, so close, that it had gone way past that of just siblings. They were locked together in life and surviving death, so what could be more natural than expressing that intimacy though physicality? Why did Dean not agree? Could he convince him? His hands were still holding his shoulders but not as strongly and relaxing, Sam sagged a little dropping his head.

Dean released his hold sliding his hands down Sam's arms, then moved one hand to cup Sam's jaw and lifting his head asked, "Tell me what you're thinking. What's going on with you?"

Even now that voice was so concerned. He, in turn, now placed his hands on Dean's shoulders, then pulled him close. He kissed him. Pushing forwards he would not surrender Dean's mouth but begged entry with his tongue. There, there was a response as Dean slowly parted his lips. Encouraged, he slid one hand to hold onto the back of his neck and the other he delved into the bulging briefs and covered Dean's prick which had shown renewed interest.

The shock of contact brought Dean back. Damn it! He had let this get way out of control. There was obviously no easy way out of this. The last thing he ever wanted to do was hurt Sam, but this had to stop, for both their sakes. This time when he pushed Sam off, he pushed much harder. "Get off of me!" and Sam fell between the beds to lie there looking completely stunned.

Dean shot out off bed putting it between them. "What the hell is wrong with you? Have you any idea what you're doing?" he ran a hand through his hair. He was so angry but could not decide who he was most angry at. Sam, of course with Sam. He was the one that had gone and .…., he couldn't even think of an appropriate adjective, but it was himself that was stood here so damn hard.

He swiftly moved around to the other bed and bent down to retrieve his jeans, quickly climbing into and fastening them up, ignoring the discomfort then swung around to look down at his brother.

His _brother_. What the hell was he playing at? He had come on to his older brother. But it was just so right. But that look Dean was giving him was killing him. It was as if he did not even recognise him.

Sam scrambled to his feet reaching for him but Dean backed off. He dropped his arm and wrapped both around his waist feeling so cold and could not help but cry. The tears leaked from his eyes but he desperately tried to hide them from Dean turning his head down and away. He turned away himself feeling ashamed.

Dean's anger at Sam fled at the sight but he was extremely uncomfortable just standing there. He did not know what to do or even what to say. He hoped that Sam was indeed as drunk as he had appeared and that when he woke, this would seem to be nothing more than a hazy weird dream. He wished he could be sure of that himself. All he _was_ sure of right now, was that he had to get out of this room. He would not be able to sleep in the same room.

"Sam. Get some sleep. I'll sleep in the car."

"Dean?" quiet plaintive.

"Tomorrow." And grabbing his jacket left not daring to look at Sam's face as he watched him leave him.

==000==

What the hell had all that been about? Not sex surely? There was something else going on but he could not get his head around it. Dean lent back against the hood of his faithful car. He wished he smoked. Seamed like it could be a good time to start. After all, he did not need to worry about the long term health effects. What the hell had gotten into his brother? A question he had asked way too often lately, but this was so different. And what of himself? He hazarded that Sam could well be crying again, a sound he detested because he could do so little about it. And himself? He was stood here out in the cold night air, burning up.

He could feel all the places where Sam's body had pressed against his. Could taste him on his lips and his hard-on showed absolutely no signs of decreasing. If he had not had Hell described to him by entities that called it home, he would have said that this was it.

He stared at a weed that was valiantly growing through the cracked concrete just left of their room's door. And stared at it and stared. It did not help. He was no stranger to this. He had often spent hours in a state of arousal but the source had never been his own brother! This was a torture all new and all his.

Growling in frustration, he set off walking rapidly. Maybe he could wear himself out. Once the adrenaline left him surely he would be fit to crash. He would not go far. Just do a couple of laps of the motel. He did not intend to stray too far. Sammy might need him. Oh crap! He walked faster.

Coming back to the Impala, for the third time, he had had enough. He crept up to the window and listened intently but all was quiet in the room so, with relief, he got into the car and crawled onto the back seat.

Getting comfortable was apparently out of the question so he settled for the least uncomfortable position he could manage. He looked for something to concentrate on and chose a mark on the opposite window. Time to give his baby a clean. But for now he just stared at the smear. It sometimes worked. He sighed and fidgeted. He should just stick his hand down his pants and get it over with. But that would be wrong too, wouldn't it? Jerking off with these thoughts in his head?

He licked his lips, put fingers to them feeling the bottom one delicately. He had definitely started to kiss Sam back. He hoped that had been down to the alcohol in his system but was not convinced. You could take it as read that their lives were truly balls'd up without this new dimension but, here it was. He was as hard as he had ever been from kissing his younger brother, at his younger brother kissing him. Wanting him.

There was special place in Hell for people like him. He laughed at the irony. He'd already got a reserved ticket. He groaned out in frustration kicking out at the side of the car too miserable to worry at any damage. "Damn it!" 'and me probably' he added silently and, unzipping his jeans, was not gentle with himself, figuring he deserved a portion of pain for this.

Collapsing back, hitting his head on the window, he wiped his hand on his stomach. He could not make himself any dirtier than he already felt. He put the wrong hand across his eyes and could smell himself. 'Well that's just peachy' and with that finally began to succumb to tiredness and slipped into a restless, troubled sleep. -

Damn he was stiff. Sam moved his head and that obviously was a mistake. There was no doubting what this was. The hangover from hell, no pun intended. He rubbed at his face, at his scalp and slowly focused on the surroundings. Okay? That did not make sense. He was completely tangled up in bedding on the floor. In fact he was wedged between the beds. Everything ached. He got up, or rather, took a few attempts to get up, fighting through the tangle of sheets and bedspread.

Standing at last on unsteady legs, he noted he was alone and it looked as if a whirlwind had swept across the beds. He could not think what had happened and needed water. Staggering to the bathroom he ran the water drinking his fill then stuck his head under the tap. A dripping reflection told him he looked like crap and he just knew he was going to get no end of stick about it. Where was Dean, he wondered scratching his stomach? Shower then he would feel better. He hoped.

It had worked and getting dressed he wondered again where his brother was. He would get a kick out of the dream Sam had had last night. If he decided to tell him that is. Bizarre. He'd dreamt that he'd tried to fuck his brother. He laughed at the ridiculousness of it shaking his head. Still got the headache then! He needed food and could not be bothered to hang around waiting. Dean was probably stuffing his face right now. He headed out slamming the door behind him.

The noise woke Dean who was also stiff but thankfully not all over. He saw Sam pass by fastening his jacket and he did not notice him squashed up in the car. He looked like crap and that brought a smirk to Dean's lips. Right, get out of the car and into a shower. A plan of action. His stomach added itself to the list as he unlocked the door.

He looked around at the bomb site and rubbed his belly. He looked down and stripping, fled into the bathroom to stand under the lukewarm drizzle scrubbing and scrubbing until his skin stung and knew it was going to be a while before he felt clean again.

==000==

TBC...


	4. Chapter 4

==000==

Talk about being saved by the bell or in this case, ring tone. It was Bobby and he needed help. Dean was going to go alone. He could not be around Sammy just now and although it would not go down well, he was determined to leave him behind. It would only be a couple of days and it would do Sam good to be self reliant and he would be alright for forty eight hours surely? He had it all rehearsed in his head and set it out plain when they were finally both in the same room. Sam's response was simple and also plain. "No!"

"I'm going and I'm going alone."

There appeared brief pain in Sam's expression closely followed by resentment, betrayal, anger and finally a grudging acceptance. "You don't think you can count on me." A statement not a question.

'Be strong', Dean told himself and 'please don't well up' he begged Sam. "You need time to yourself, to come to terms with what's happened."

"We don't have time. I need to get back into the hunt."

"Sam. You need time." He did not want to hurt him, but knew his next statement would, but it had to be said. "You have to deal with this. You're seeing your dead lover wherever you go!"

How the hell did he know that? "That's not true," indignant.

"Then why do you keep staring out the window of the car or at something on the street and saying his name?"

"I don't!"

"You do!"

Sam sat down in defeat as Dean pulled out a sack of salt from the shopping he had just done on the way back from the diner. Sam watched dully as his brother spread a broader line against the window and moved off into the bathroom to do the same there. He then opened the door and added a thin line just outside and then handed the bag to Sam. "As soon as I've gone, you redo the inside." pointing to the door. "An' if Ruby shows up you talk to her thru the window. You get me?"

Something non committal.

"Sammy?"

"Yes! So what am I supposed to do? Stay inside, don't move, don't answer the door? Just wait for my big brother to come back and get me? I'm not a kid anymore!" he was really angry now standing to use his full height over his brother.

Dean stilled and looked at him seriously. "Yes."

"Screw you!" and went to leave the room. Dean caught up with him and grabbing onto his arms shook him as he spoke. He was his little brother and he wanted him safe. How many times would he have to prove that? "I need you to be on your game. You're not. You're distracted and doing things you wouldn't normally do. Damn it Sam. You're still grieving and there's no getting around it, but you have to get control of it and you can't do that with me here." 'Please understand' he begged silently.

"What things?"

'Crap'. He had to pick up on that one. "Seeing dead people … that aren't there!" he might as well have hit him it would not have hurt so much. Either of them.

"Get out!"

"Promise me you'll stay here."

"Leave."

"Sammy. Promise me."

"Get the fuck away from me!"

"Promise me." And as Sam had turned his back on him, Dean left looking back once saying, "There's food in the bag." refusing to admit that Sam had sworn at him in anger for the second day running. Another thing he would not normally do.

==000==

Just who the hell did he think he was to be ordering him to stay inside like back when they were kids? That was the problem all around. Dean still treated him like a kid. Sam had swung back around to being angry at Dean. He had spent nigh on eight hours either, sitting and feeling numb, pacing the room in anger, going on the net, understanding Dean's actions and cursing him for them.

He sat back down in front of his laptop and opened the recent folder. He put the photos to slide show. He smiled sadly as the pictures slowly changed. There were only three. David laughing with his hands up in a half hearted attempt to block the photo, David smiling at the phone camera when he finally allowed him to take one and one of them together. A close up, as it was taken at arms length as they sat in bed. They looked so happy with the whole world in front of them.

No doubt millions of people around the world had such photos, so full of life and promise that was ripped away far too soon. A tear hit the keypad and Sam slammed the cover shut and let himself weep. 'For the last time', he told himself. It had to be the last time.

==000==

Dean did not have to worry about Ruby calling in on Sam. She had been waiting with Bobby as he pulled up next to the barn in the exact middle of nowhere. Who on earth builds a barn with nothing else within sight? Admittedly, not the strangest thing he had ever seen. And now they were besieged. And the new gun did not work. They had tried to recreate their previous success but something would just not go right.

The other guns worked but again Dean was so aware that with every bullet, it dropped a daemon, but not permanently. Unlike all the dead people who were discarded in their wake. And, if they had set on him in such numbers, just what was happening to Sam? He cursed that he had thought it a good idea to leave him behind.

He understood his reasons, all too well, but now they were worthless. Standing in the circle literally drawn in the dirt replenishing the salt, the only defence the three of them had left once their bullets ran out, he knew that he could not lose Sam.

That was already written in stone, but he knew he could not be without him, even for such a short while. He had told him once, a long time ago now, that he did not want him to go back to school. He wanted them to be a family like they used to be. Him, Sam and Dad. That could not happen now, but Sam was his family, his whole family, his whole world, and if that meant that he should acquiesce to all demands his brother placed on him, so be it.

Another thing he was certain of. Hell's spawn might hate Sam and himself, but it detested Ruby.

In this war for supremacy, where were the rest that wanted Sam to lead them? There had to be more than just Ruby. Or had they all, now Sam had turned his back on his daemon heritage, lined up behind Lilith? It did not bare thinking about, so he set his mind on surviving this assault and left the war for another time.

One final push that came so close to breaking the circle and then suddenly they were alone. They looked around, looked at each other. They were battered and bruised. Salt might keep the daemons out but not all the things they could throw at them. They waited expecting a fresh assault and, after a time, Dean realised they would not be back. "Sam!" he shouted and set off running the other two on his heals.

==000==

TBC...


	5. Chapter 5

==000==

He sat staring through his beer bottle. Dean would love this bar. The smell, the music and food on the bar for free. He'd heard somewhere about all the things found on bar snacks under a microscope. They did not bare thinking about. He had told Dean who had just smiled and scooped up yet another handful.

Staying in that room had not been an option but before leaving he had added several daemon traps. How many motel rooms across the states had invisible designs drawn in ultra violet pen on the ceiling? It had to be into triple figures by now. Also, he had been careful not to disturb the salt as he closed the door. And most people thought setting the burglar alarm was a chore.

"Buy a girl a drink?"

"No." he did not even look up but started picking at the label on his bottle.

"Can a girl buy you a drink?" unperturbed.

He glanced at the woman leaning against the bar beside him. Why did all blonds look like Jessica? "Not interested." Not bothering to spare a stranger's feelings, being too wrapped up in his own. He caught a reflection in the mirror over the bar and spun around to find the origin.

No one there but, just for a moment, he had seen him again. Dean was right, as usual he admitted. He was slowly losing it. He turned back to the bar and the woman was still there. He appraised her and could not summon up even the will for idle conversation. "Are you going to leave?"

She just pouted looking at him. "Fine." And standing, emptied his bottle in three swift gulps. Slamming it on the bar, wondering that it had managed to go flat so quickly, announced, "Then I will." And did.

The woman just smiled and moved on.

Sam was annoyed as he had been set on drinking for America but she had somehow put the dampers on his plan. So he headed back to the motel with only a couple inside him. He hunched his shoulders in the jacket and quickened his pace. He felt light headed. The beer wasn't that strong for crying out loud! He was feeling the affects though. He slowed his pace. Something wasn't right. He did not feel right at all. He picked up his pace and practically ran back to the motel collapsing against the door feeling he would vomit but did nothing but dry heave.

He fumbled to get the door unlocked and fell over the threshold. He needed to lie down. He made it to standing, scraping his feet along the floor and stumbled to the nearest bed where he collapsed and passed out.

==000==

There was no sound. One thing about the Winchesters, they always chose out of the way places to stay. An advantage, but not for Sam this time. A hand pushed tentively at the door till it touched. The lock was picked and the door pushed open. The salt was scattered on the inside too. The mouth smiled. Lessons had been learnt the hard way so, before entering, a special torch was produced and scanned across the dark room. He had not even managed to turn on the lights.

There were three traps on the ceiling. It must have taken a while or were the brothers just getting so adept? Next was produced a squeezy bottle full of paint. A few quick flicks of the arm and the traps were useless. Looking down at the shag pile carpet, unless they had lifted it, the room should be clean. It was firmly fixed. Bless synthetic shag pile. You could not draw on that.

And there he was, laid out on the bed waiting for him. She was going to enjoy this. For a moment there was hesitation. It would cease no end of trouble if he died right now, but that was not enough. He had to suffer, and so did the other one.

Sam awoke slowly, still not feeling too good but the hand in his hair was doing wonders to improve things. He rolled over to look at the person sat on the bed next to him. Dean he supposed. He was beginning to feel so much better. Pleasantly stoned. He smiled up at David. "Hi" he said.

"I've brought you a present." His lover said. "Hope you like it."

Sam sat up and took the pendent. It was not really to his taste. A piece of carved ivory, not elephant he hoped, but that didn't matter now. It was the giver that counted. He gave it back and let David tie the leather thong around his neck and then he kissed him. "I've missed you." Looking momentarily puzzled. "Where've you been?"

"You drove off and left me behind. Don't you remember?" low, soft.

He had a vague memory of a hand raised in farewell. "I'm sorry" was all he could think to say. He could not remember why he would have left him. He'd never wanted to.

"Prove it." David said with a seductively wicked grin.

"Okay," replied Sam, rising to the challenge.

David climbed off him lying back with an arm flung over his head, laughing. Sam rolled over half onto him and smiled. He loosely folded his arms across the slick chest and leant his chin on an arm rising and falling with the deep breaths being taken. He studied David's face. It seemed thinner and Sam was momentarily puzzled. "Where's your pendent?"

He lifted Sam's left wrist and waved it.

Sam stared at the wrapped leather strip as if seeing it for the first time. "Oh. Didn't you like it?" Sam thought that he had.

"Course I did, but you took it with you." spoken a little resentfully but the smile softened the tone.

"I'm sorry," meaning it.

A rumbled laugh in response he could feel in David's chest. He kissed across where he could feel it causing a kind of purr. Sam smiled through his kissing and changed to tasting and licking. David had a slightly, but not unpleasant, bitter taste that he had never noticed before. Sam's heart began to beat a little faster as fingers entered his hair then, after some toying, encouraged him to expand his attentions downwards.

He gladly followed instruction amazed at how calm his partner was. His heart was hardly fluttering while Sam's was beating so fast it was fit to burst. Then, he didn't bother thinking much at all for quite a while.

==000==

David straddled him, gazing down. Sam looked knackered but happy. He grunted as the weight on him shifted as David reached for something on the floor. "I've got something else for you." And gave that grin again.

Sam looked expectant, running his hands up and down the taut thighs either side of him. "I'm not sure I could take any more."

"Oh, it's just a small thing." And he ran a thumb none to gently over the tattoo on Sam's chest. He looked down at him laughing. "And you thought this would keep all daemons out of your body." He delighted in the questioning expression. He leant forwards and whispered intimately into Sam's ear, "This daemon has just entered you several times."

There was a slight delay, then "Wha….?" not understanding.

Again the thumb over the tattoo and, "Don't worry. This will hurt." A sharp knife sliced through the design. Sam's breath was drawn in as his face twisted at the pain. "And this won't help any either." And opening a small pot, the body of David Moorcroft rubbed into the open wound a thick, dark paste.

"I told you that I had not forgotten about you. Samuel Winchester!"

==000==

TBC...


	6. Chapter 6

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"Sammy?" and seeing the scattered salt, Dean burst through the door. He had known something was wrong. He might have hung up on him but Sam would have answered his phone first if he could. Dean had practically run his battery down trying to get through to him. One glance at the room and all his fears had come true.

Sam was curled up naked on the bed and he rushed over to him. "Sam? Please. Sammy?"

His brother was cold and there was blood on his chest. He felt for a pulse and thanked the heavens when he found one, but there was something seriously wrong with him. Dean turned him onto his back and grabbed the bedding off the floor to cover him. Sam was so cold his teeth were chattering. Dean held his face studying the pained features which appeared pale and clammy.

Sam's eyes fluttered open, recognition, then they closed again. "You came back to me."

"Always, Sammy" he assured him.

Sam managed to turn onto his side curling up again and through the shudders and spasms, smiled at him his eyes mere slights and whispered. "I love you."

"I know Sammy."

"Are you going to stay this time? David. Please stay" quiet and heartfelt.

Dean rocked back on his heals. He must be delirious. Had to be. He looked at Sam closely. He pulled the covers down to see where the blood was from and saw the cut. He put fingers to the black paste then rubbed it between his fingers and smelt at it. He was about to taste it till he heard, "Now that would be just plain dumb stupid." And he looked up at Bobby who stood shaking his head.

"It constantly amazes me how you're not in Hell already." added Ruby. She looked around. "I would suggest you re-examine your defences." And shook her head in a 'why do I even bother' fashion.

"He looks bad, son."

'Really?' Dean's sarcastic expression answered Bobby. "What the hell have they done to him? Why not just kill him?"

"I think she has." Ruby stood impassively with folded arms. Inside she was freaking. Without Sam there was little to no chance of defeating Lilith.

"She?"

Ruby pointed a finger at the wall above the bed. They all stared at the large dark letters. How the two men could have missed it she would not hazard. Just two simple words, 'luv Lilith'. Dean turned his attention back to the figure on the bed and ran a hand down Sam's face. "What has the bitch done to you?" spoken softly.

Sam's eyes flickered open again and he smiled up at him. He did not seem to realise that there was anything wrong with him. He tried to raise a hand to Dean's face but the effort was too much for him.

Dean was worried. Before his eyes, Sam's skin tone was getting worse. Gone past pale, he was gaining a dull greyish tint. He did not think they had much time. He looked up beseechingly at his companions. "What do we do?"

He stroked Sam's face again and neck catching his fingers on something. He picked up the pendent not liking the look of it. He held it in his palm. Ruby pushed him out of the way and snatched up the pendent pulling it from Sam's neck.

"Hey! Watch it." And Dean checked to see if she had done any damage. Sam's neck was red but the skin was not broken, but something broke in Sam. He began to shudder as if finally feeling the cold, his eyes going wide as he swung violently onto his back.

"Clean that crap out of his wound." The tone of her voice broached no refusal.

"Do you know something?" hopeful, desperate, moving to get something to follow her order out of a kit in his bag with.

She considered. "Maybe. Not certain." And exited the room taking the pendent with her.

Dean had trouble with the wound as Sam was becoming agitated enough to need Bobby to hold him still. "He's so cold." They shared a concerned look.

"Best keep him as warm as we can." And Bobby dragged all the bedding from the other bed across and covered him once Dean had cleaned out the cut as best he could. Once he had stopped the bleeding, he covered it with gauze and hoped it would knit together. It was a clean narrow cut designed to reach blood not to wound. The tattoo was useless now, but that was for later.

Dean looked around the room at a total loss. He noticed the paint on the ceiling. There had been method to everything. But how had she gotten into the room? He did not think for a minute Sam would have opened the door for her. "Bobby. We need more salt."

"I've got some in the truck." And went to get it leaving the brothers alone.

"Damn it, Sammy. What the hell happened here?" he held Sam's face between his hands, speaking quietly.

"What's wrong with me?" spoken through chattering teeth.

"Awe, Sammy." He was so relieved that he knew who he was, that he was ill. "I don't know. But we'll fix this. Trust me, we'll fix this."

"Dean?" so low he had to lean in close to hear him.

"Yeah?"

"Where'd he go? Where's David."

"He's dead, Sam. You know that." Oh this was bad. He thought he could cry now but that would not help. He had to help his brother somehow.

"But…" and he lost strength again.

It was happening so fast. "But what, Sammy?"

"He came back to me." And looked happy as if the memory was real. Then began to shake with cold once more.

Dean got up and kicked off his boots and, throwing his jacket across the bed, lifted the covers to slide in with his brother, pulling him close, onto his chest, just hoping that he could share his own heat with Sam like he had seen them do in endless movies. It took a while but Sam slowly relaxed, somewhat. But he was still so cold.

"Well that's the door re-salted." Offered Bobby checking the windows then coming back into the room, "Erm, Dean?"

"Yeah?" looking over.

"There's another message on the back of the door. Guess this one's for you." And turned to look over at the pair, one questioning, one oblivious.

"What? Quit it with the suspense, man."

Bobby took a big breath, " 'When you've failed to save him. You're next.'" And turned tired eyes on Dean.

"Friendly." And pulled Sam back close as he was becoming restless. "What are we going to do?"

"All we can till Ruby gets back."

"Bobby? You think she knows what's wrong with him?"

"It's the necklace that's got me worried. I've seen something like it before. You gonna be alright if I head out for a while?"

"Whatever you can do. Thanks Bobby."

"I'll call. We should buy that Ruby a cell. Make life easier than waitin' for her to 'pop' up."

"Sure." Somehow he doubted she'd answer it. Unless it was Sam calling.

With Bobby gone and Ruby, who knew where, but both trying to find out something to do to help, all he could do was hold Sam. Hold him close. Hold him tight. He seemed so fragile, thin and weak. He pulled the dark head onto his chest covering his face with a hand. He found himself stroking the too prominent check bone and Sam shifted again more onto him reaching around him. "Umm…y…et...so….g…"

"Say again, buddy."

His face moved up and Dean heard much more clearly. "Your heart…beat. It's so strong. Not like his." And his face nestled into Dean's neck.

Many conflicting thoughts chased through Dean's mind. He relished the feel of Sam against him but berated himself for even going there and under these circumstances too. He felt a pang of jealousy for the continued feeling for a dead man when he was here, alive. And why did Sam even think the man had been here? Dean had a really bad feeling.

He also knew he should feel bad about the reactions his body was engaging in. It was inappropriate in so many ways. But Sam was nuzzling at his neck and he knew he should stop him but so did not want to. His head fell back and he swallowed hard as Sam shifted against him.

Dean turned his face away but would be lying if he said it was to escape the kissing mouth. He bit down on his bottom lip, squeezing closed his eyes as Sam kissed him, slowly, firmly up his neck to his cheek then he turned back to him as Sam licked at his mouth. That brought him back to reality.

Sam was raised up on arms that quivered under the strain and the look he was giving him was full of fever. He did not look 'correct'. There was something seriously wrong, it was not Sammy. Not his Sammy. This was alien. This had to stop but there was no way he could throw him from the bed this time. Sam needed him. He was still his brother. "Sammy, please stop. It isn't right."

"But you love it when I kiss your neck. You know where I'm going to kiss next." A wicked lopsided grin full of intent.

What? Oh crap. "Sammy? You know it's me right?" sliding backwards to rest against the headboard.

Sam's grin turned to what he could only describe as evil and Dean realised he should not have put himself in this particular position. Sam moved back and with surprising strength straddled his legs. Dean caught at his hands as they tried to open his jeans. "Sam! No!"

"Yes." Pulling his hands free and again tried to open Dean's zipper. "Come on baby. You've never been shy before." And kissed him hard.

Where had Sam gotten the strength from? He could hardly raise an arm half an hour ago! Dean grabbed his shoulders and pushed hard. He had always been just a little bit stronger than his younger brother but it took a renewed effort to finally get him to release him and he felt his lip tear as Sam's teeth caught it. "Sam! It's me. It's Dean. I'm your brother. I'm not David!"

Sam looked confused, his brow furrowed and he seemed to be digesting the words. He came to a decision and, laughing, he went to kiss him again.

"No, Sammy. Don't do this, please." But had to push him off, harder this time. Damn it! He let go of one shoulder and slapped him across the face. Sam's head twisted so fast under the blow, for an agonising moment, Dean thought he had broken something. Sam faltered slowly coming around to look woozily at him. He did not noticeably register the pain but as his eyes focused they went wide. Then he passed out.

Dean narrowly stopped Sam's head slamming into him and, with a great deal of effort, he managed to get the dead weight off him and, sitting on the edge of the bed, panted from the exertions looking down with a frown at Sam. He looked even thinner than ten minutes ago as if that strength had not come from nowhere but was using up his body.

He tasted blood and, licking his lips, winced as his tongue discovered the torn skin. What was happening here? He tucked the blankets in tight around the now sleeping, too thin, frame. He leant, elbows on his knees, and gave in. Dropping head into hands, he let the tears come. There was nothing else he could do.

After an hour or so with Sam mumbling incoherently, he tried to get some water into him. It went everywhere. He was shivering again and he felt so cold to the touch Dean thought he should be blue not grey.

There was a thud against the door followed by, "Let me in, asshole!" Ruby was back.

He opened the door and stood back. "Well? Are you going to let me in?" she asked.

"Come in then" losing patience. It was not as if he liked her to begin with.

"Urhg!" she looked at him in exasperated disbelief.

"What?"

She gestured at the line of salt, looking at him as if she could not understand how he was intelligent enough to breath.

"Oh, yeah. Right." Sheepish as he broke the line.

She pushed past him, clearing the surface of the table with one sweep of her arm to place a cloth bag in its centre. Dean was hopeful. "You know what to do?"

'He's like a big dumb puppy' she thought. She moved to study Sam.

"Well?" Dean asked anxious.

"The carved bone fetish was for illusion. To make him believe what he was being told."

"The ivory pendent?"

She sighed at the ineptitude. And this was what had kept Sam from taking his rightful place? "Bone. Human." She swung her head to look at him. "For it to work it would have to be from someone close to him." She raised a questioning eyebrow.

'Oh, crap!' But he remained silent.

"What's that he's mumbling?" she leant in closer to the prone figure on the bed then turned to Dean. "Who's David?"

He scratched his head. Somehow he was reluctant to talk about Sam's personal life. He looked off not liking the way she was weighing him up as if she could see the answers written on his brain. He stood with hands shoved in his pants pockets, his attitude that of a boy caught stealing apples in a more innocent time.

"Let me make this simple so you can keep up." Ruby stated facing the older brother, weight on one hip, arms folded. Her whole stance was one of disgust. "I've got a damned good idea what she did to him but I need to know a few things to be sure, 'cause if I'm wrong the cure will be messy and worthless. So. Who is David?"

"Somebody we met a couple of weeks ago."

"And?"

"And… he and Sam…..spent time together."

"Ur..uh. And where is he now?" but he could tell she already knew, knew more than he did.

"He's dead." As if admitting a universally known fact.

"Ur..uh." she turned back to the bed watching Sam and did not look happy. "What happened to your lip?"

"Nothin'"

"Ur..uh"

"Enough with the Ur..uhs! What's _wrong_ with him?" fists clenching at his sides.

"Has he seen him recently?"

"No. He's dead… Oh crap!"

"Ur..uh"

"You're fucking driving me crazy." Running a hand through his hair so he would not punch her with it. "What the hell, is wrong with him?"

"He's got something inside of him."

"And that would be?" he was going to hit her, yes, he definitely was.

She turned around and fixed him with piercing eyes. "Dead man's seed."

"Wha..?"

"Damn! I hoped I was wrong."

They both swung around to stare at Bobby stood just inside the doorway. "You're getting sloppy boy if'in you din't hear me get here."

"Yeah." Dean agreed, un-cocking the drawn gun and putting it on the table. He noticed Bobby had brought presents too.

"So what's with this 'Dead man's seed' then?" but it did not sound good. "What?" at the two expressions staring at him as if he was the densest thing on the planet.

"It speaks for itself." Bobby explained slowly. "Dead man. Seed. You gotta know what that is."

Dean sank down on the chair, head in hands as it all sank in. "Awe, Sammy."

"We don't have time for this. He's going fast. You're going to have to cure him, Son."

"How?" he looked from one to the other. If they knew of a cure they should just give it to him.

"You're dealing with dark magics here." Bobby explained as Dean moved over to the bed and sat next to Sam pushing the hair back from his face. He looked so frail now. "It took a great deal to be set in place for this. You can't use just any 'body'. And add that to the bone carving, an' the mixture put in the cut an' the …." He was embarrassed, "…sex, all mixed up with the most powerful force in the human world and you get this. A wasting perversion of an act of love."

"And the cure?" Dean looked up hopeful.

Bobby moved to empty his pockets onto the table. Herbs, spices, dried insects and worse, that Dean did not want to put a name to. "You got a bowl or something?"

"No. Use this." And Ruby plonked a heavy pewter chalice in front of Bobby and watched intently as the middle aged man pulverized the ingredients in the cup.

"There's one more ingredient we need but I couldn't get it." The older hunter looked ashamed now. He wanted nothing more than to save one of John's boys. He owed him that and had taken to the pair in their own right, but this was too hard. He would need help as he doubted he would be able to go through with the harvesting.

"What?" Dean had said that word so many times now but it all depended on the answer.

"A newborn's innocent's mortal heart." Bobby shuddered at the thought.

Dean spun around, disbelief and anger all over his face, his body tense. "You mean we gotta kill a baby? No. Never. And Sam would never forgive us."

Ruby moved and tipped her small sack out onto the table. The majority was as Bobby had also supplied but, for one small bundle. They both looked at her with horror. "Don't worry. I know where to get this sort of stuff without anyone having to be killed. It doesn't say anything about it having been a living heart."

"Y'u sure? The information I got sorta made it sound like you had to get it yourself."

She just looked at Bobby as if tolerating a bug. "My information is older and much more reliable." And she put the small organ into the chalice. With extreme reluctance he used it to bind the powders.

"It's going to be alright Sammy." Dean whispered into his ear. "We're going to get you well." And he kissed his cheek. There was almost no response. "Hurry up so I can give it to him." And he started to get Sam into a sitting position. Holding him up in one arm, he stretched a hand out for the chalice. When nothing was placed in it he looked askance at the pair stood there together, one pitying expression, one more with a hint of amusement, "What?" he asked yet again.

"He don't drink it. You do." Bobby stated.

"What good will that do?" perplexed.

"This isn't a medicine. This is a spell. There's ritual. As much, if not more, to stop this than to start it."

"So? So what do we do?"

"We've done our part, the rest is up to you." And Bobby turned away. Let the daemon explain this.

"Just tell me!" getting desperate.

"Drink the stuff, then replace 'dead love's seed' with 'live love's seed'. Simple."

He just stared at her, his mouth moving but nothing coming out.

"It's all about love. The most powerful force in human nature. Didn't you get that bit?" raising her brows.

"But he's my brother! It's wrong."

"You love him, don't you?"

"Cause I do."

"And he loves you?"

"You know he does."

"There you go then." Simple, lifting a hand and slapping it against her thigh.

Sam's head had fallen onto his shoulder. They were running out of time. "Fine. Pass me a cup and a turkey baster and I'll do it somehow." That's the way women did that sort of thing.

"And that's your idea of the act of love?" Ruby asked with pure distain. "You ever get to sleep with the same person twice? You've got to make love to him."

"But …. I can't. He's my brother! It's not right."

"So you love him enough to give up your life, knowing when and exactly where you'll be going, but you're going to let him just waste away to nothing because of some perceived morality? You are unbelievable!"

Dean held Sam close, holding on tightly rocking him. This was a nightmare. Ruby threw her hands up in frustration. "Fine I'll do it. I take it you've got one of those?" pointing at the gauze covering Sam's tattoo. Dean nodded dumbly. "Damage it. Let me in. I'll lose this body though." She said with regret. She did not have Lilith's power. This body would be a broken shell the moment she left it. "Come on, get on with it."

It was not the thought of letting a daemon possess his own body, but to have Sam violated again by one, that was too much to bear. "Get out. Both of you. Leave us alone." He laid Sam down on the bed and moved to the table and, before he could change his mind, picked up the chalice and drank the thick disgusting potion, gagging, fearing he would vomit and fail before he even started. Bobby handed him a glass of water and a flask of whisky then turned to leave. He gulped the water down slamming the glass on the table and wiped a hand across his mouth. Ruby gave him a stern look as he emptied the flask then left also stepping over the broken salt line, leaving it to the other to set right. The door slammed behind them.

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TBC...


	7. Chapter 7

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It was so quiet in the room. All he could hear was the thudding of his heart, the blood rushing around his ears. He looked over at Sam. This was all so fucked up. Something he had had to stop himself from thinking of a short few days ago was now the only thing that could save his brother's life. If he were to do this, there was no _if_ he corrected himself, when he did this, it had better work and he prayed to the heavens, again, that once he was well, it would all be a fevered dream to Sam. "Please don't let him remember" Dean begged under his breath.

He was just wasting time. He stomach was rebelling at the grossness he had just put in it. He promised himself the hottest chilli yet once this was over. Enough. He stripped off his t-shirt then divested himself of the rest and, quickly moving to the bed, crawled in to lie next to Sam.

On his side, he ran the back of his bent fingers down the closest cheek calling to him softly. Eliciting no reaction, he let his finger press along the jawbone, so prominent in the drawn face. Sam was still beautiful to him, for he could see much more than what others saw. He saw loyalty, sacrifice, friendship and companionship. He saw love, family and the only home he knew. It was not a place, not, wherever his head was laid. Dean lived wherever Sam was.

Pulling the face towards him, Sam's eyes fluttered open but could not stay that way. He was so weak Dean worried that he would be hurt by him so, as gently as he could, he moved to lie more on top of Sam without resting his full weight. He kissed him lightly on the chin then moved to his mouth. He felt so wrong, but knew he had no choice now.

His body was not fooled as was his mind. It did not deny its true feelings for the younger sibling. No convention impeded its desire and now Dean refused to let his mind dwell on the wrongness of this. As he deepened the kiss, caressing Sam's neck with fingers unused to stroking stubble, Sam seemed to wake up. His lips began to respond to the touch and strength appeared from nowhere, just as before, but slowly.

Dean broke contact licking his sore bottom lip. He knew it was raw again as he left his blood on Sam's mouth. It was startling in its bright hue on that sallow skin. Sam must have felt it too as he licked his lip greedily, his eyes now open and focused on him. "Dean." spoken in relief, confusion and a breathy longing.

"I'm right here," a whisper onto his lips.

Sam's hands came up to hold onto his shoulders pulling him down and he kissed him with a thirst that Dean was willing to quench now unlike earlier. He had a thought that Sam had known then what his body needed and gave up on trying to rationalize anything. He kissed as he was kissed, his hands holding, grasping harder than he had intended but the response he was getting just goaded him on.

He climbed fully on top of the too thin frame, lying along his entire length and Sam's legs opened immediately welcoming him. 'He's not himself' he told himself, 'he doesn't know what he's doing', but whatever state Sam was in, he did not seem to think, just react and Dean took a lesson from him. This was not his brother. This was not someone who had been drugged, fooled and was in need of treatment, a cure. This was a responsive body wanting him, enjoying his touch, his attentions. He let himself do the same. Any morality did not matter. Not now as he was being kissed, as a tongue forced its way into his mouth. He met it with his own ignoring the stale taste and joined in the dance, the duel.

It was strange, a body longer than his, and although thinner than usual, he could feel the muscles just under the surface, strong now as hands clutched at his back, fingers spread and pressing in. Sam's legs came up to enclose his waist, heels pressing down on the back of his legs pulling up his buttocks as he tried to encourage Dean to set a pace. To enter him and set rhythm. Dean responded moving on him in time to the goading but it was not enough for Sam. He wanted him inside him, he needed him.

Dean pulled his lips away from Sam's and pushing up on hands either side of his chest lined himself up. Damn. He hadn't thought of that. He cast around, but there was nothing he could use. "Dean. Please." Sam was reaching for him. He knelt up, one hand on Sam's chest to keep him still, and spat into his other palm. It would have to do. Then Sam got his wish as pushing Dean entered him.

Slowly, gently because, as ever, he had no wish to hurt him, Dean pushed in and waited for acceptance. Sam hissed, his back arching, forcing his hard prick against Dean's belly, then let out an almost laugh. Dean's arms trembled as he held himself still, waiting, but the look of pure lust on Sam's face was urging him to continue. The tightness around him relaxed and he pushed in further until he was safely inside. After all, it was not the first time he'd had anal, just the first time with a man. With Sam.

Sam did not want to take it slowly, he wanted to be filled, to be consumed all at the same time. His hands were up on Dean's back pulling him closer, he wanted him closer, his legs were high, feet on Dean's legs and he moved a hand down to grasp a buttock painfully enough to make Dean rear back and drag in a breath. He did not care, he just did everything he could to pull Dean into him.

Dean was amazed at where Sam found the strength and just hoped that this time he would be stronger, cured unlike before with his body being 'used up'. He wanted to kiss him, but it was too awkward with his extra length, so he settled for burying his face in Sam's neck, to nibble, kiss and suck, and he could feel Sam's pulse beating steadily stronger.

Oh, this had to work, for he knew that once Sam was well, once he was himself and healthy, he would want to do this again. Not as a cure, not under dire circumstances, but if he could, if Sam would allow him, he would do this again. He would make love to Sam, he would have sex with Sam. He would fuck him.

With this thought running through his mind he knew this was not going to last long. Sam was gasping, pushing down on him, and he was building to a quick climax. He rose up, once more looking into Sam's face, and his eyes came to meet him, staring as intensely up into his. He seemed to signal his assent and, with one more mighty push, Dean came, shuddering, watching Sam's face as he was in turn watched. A couple more movements and he collapsed, breathing deep and sighing out his brother's name as he felt Sam's response spread across his belly.

Slipping from him, he continued to lie on the relaxing body under him. His ear resting over Sam's heart, he thought he could hear it gaining strength. He smiled closing his eyes and let his body relax knowing Sam would be able to take his weight.

After a while, he noticed something was happening. He rolled off Sam onto his side and placing a hand to cup his brother's face, watched as he began to shake. It was not too bad, looking not unlike he was in a fever again. His body jerked slightly and his face looked pained. "Dean?"

"I'm here." He assured him, sitting up, leaning over so Sam could see him as he did not seem able to move except to just shake. He had sounded scared. Dean stroked the side of his face, his hair and a small smile touched his lips. "You'll be okay soon." And he leant to kiss him softly then continued to stroke his hair. He wanted to tell him how much he loved him, but couldn't, as the feeling was just too overwhelming as he watched Sam breathe in deeply then, relax.

Watching him sleep, Dean could see Sam's colour coming back almost before his eyes but guessed that it would take longer for him to regain his strength completely. As long as he was going to be alright. He looked down the length of him. His fingers followed his eyes and he had a momentary feeling of trepidation. He was sure somehow he was going to have to pay for the pleasure he had taken in this. He should not have enjoyed this but he had. There were no lies, no denial. He had enjoyed fucking his brother and thought of being able to do it again and how much better it would be when Sam was at full strength.

He could not help but smile at the thought. In his imagination, Sam would fight him somewhat as he wanted it the other way around and, with a jump in his belly and sudden stiffening, he too realised that that's what he really wanted. He wanted Sam to fuck him. He wanted to feel him inside him. He wanted not to be the older dominant one. He wanted to give up all responsibility and have Sam take control of him.

His fingers continued to play across Sam's skin then to slightly tug at the dark hairs leading down from his navel. Sam chose that moment to wake up.

Watching Dean, Sam was at a loss as to what was happening. He did not dare move but studied the look of concentration on his brother's face. He felt like he had the hangover from the lower reaches of Hell and could not recollect much of the night before. His stomach hurt, he knew that, and it felt like there was something crawling in his belly, deep inside him. He was going to throw up.

Pushing himself off the bed, he stumble on wobbly legs into the bathroom and, collapsing to knelling, held onto the toilet seat as he threw up what felt like everything that he had ever eaten. It went on for an eternity.

Dean sat on the edge of the bed relieved. He was sure that Sam was on the mend. He had done it and now it would be okay. He had him back and he was sure that they would be closer than ever, that they would continue to be _closer_ than ever. He looked up as a very unsteady figure held onto the doorway, looking miserable but alive. "What the Hell happened last night?" Sam asked hoarsely.

Where to start? But before he could begin Sam had more questions. Looking really confusedly at him, Sam asked, "When did you get back?"

Dean's world momentarily slipped. "What d'you mean?"

"When did you get back? Simple question and…..why are you sat on my bed … naked?" he fixed Dean with a 'what the Hell you been doing' look, but he was saved from answering as Sam fled back into the bathroom to be sick yet again.

Dean was numb. Sam could not remember. He did not appear to remember any of it. On automatic he slowly picked up his t-shirt and jeans, pulling them on, trying desperately not to acknowledge that Sam did not know what he had done. Did not know that he had craved it and, what's more, would no doubt freak out if he told him. He slumped onto the bed and felt as if he had just been stabbed. But it was what he had wanted, what he had begged for.

Just how much should he tell him? Sam needed to know, but could he really break the news to him that their greatest threat had possessed the corpse of the man he loved? That she had used it to fuck him, intending that he should have been essentially 'fucked to death', and the only cure was that his brother should, 'fuck him alive'? How the Hell could he tell him that, never mind the rest of it?

He had to get out of here. He felt feverish himself and could not face Sam when he came into the room with more questions. If Sam did not remember what they had done he must never know. That was going to be a hell all of its own, because even now, underneath all the misery that was suddenly heaped on him, in both mind and body, Dean wanted Sam.

He grabbed his jacket and leaving called out, "I'm going to get you something to eat." And could not help but laugh on Sam instantly retching in response. It was in relief, he knew, but how long was he going to be able to keep all this from Sam? Hands deep in pockets, he headed out to find a local market.

Walking back to the motel, carrying a brown paper sack with some actually healthy food in it, he encountered Bobby exiting his beat up truck where he had been sat waiting. He looked relieved to see Dean out and about and asked after Sam.

"It worked." Dean told him but could not bring himself to look the older man in the eye. "He doesn't remember. Bobby?" and sort of peeped at him.

"I won't say anything," obviously also embarrassed. "What are'ya goin' to tell him?"

"As little as I have too," sighing, his shoulders dropping.

"I'm glad I caught you out here." and motioned Dean to follow him. "We got a problem. Guess we aught to deal before Sam sees." And, on reaching the Impala, indicated the body in the passenger seat. Dean sagged and swore under his breath as Bobby said "I take it then that that was _the_ David?"

That fuckin' bitch. He glanced at the motel room window, dreading seeing Sam looking out, but it was clear. "We gotta …get this done now."

"Come on. I won't make you do this alone." And Bobby went to his truck to fetch a sheet then, once they had gently wrapped and laid Sam's lover on the back seat, he returned ready to follow the black car onto the road. It was a small funeral cortege, but a sad one.

"Where've you been? You promised me food."

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Dean had trouble looking at his brother as he could still smell the funeral pyre smoke on himself and he went back out to collect the paper sack, dumping it on the nearest bed and headed into the bathroom.

Sam practically pounced on the food tipping the bag up. He was ravenous now his stomach had finally settled down and did not want to think about what had been happening from the other end. Around a mouthful of sandwich he yelled out, "You gonna tell me what's been happening?" What with the graffiti and all, he had had a worrying time cataloguing all that had been done to the room. There was a muffled shout and then the sound of the shower been turned on. He sat down and carried on eating while he waited.

Bundling his clothes up, Dean wrapped himself in a towel and, taking a deep breath, entered the room throwing the bundle into a corner and quickly found a clean set of clothes to put on. "I'm still hungry." Came from behind him and he turned slowly to gaze at his brother.

"Well you look a hell of a lot better. I was worried there for a while." Making light of it.

"Are you going to tell me now?" pointing at the two word message.

"You don't you remember anything?" but all he got was a frown.

Sam had been trying to recollect, to work out just what had been going on for the last two days. The TV had told him the date and it was Wednesday. The last thing he remembered clearly was Dean driving off without him on Monday. He had had some wild dreams and did not doubt they were just that.

Dean came to sit on the bed opposite him. He seemed really nervous. Sam tensed, what had he got to tell him? Nothing good by the look of it. He asked, not wanting to know as he dreaded the answer, "Dean? What did I do? Please don't tell me I hurt someone."

"Not you." And Dean finally looked at him.

"But because of me." It was not really a question.

"Sammy. Did you go out on Monday?"

"After you told me not to?" he was thinking hard and he sort of remembered something, an offer of a drink, a woman. "Yes." He admitted feeling like an errant teenager.

"Did someone give you a drink?"

"She offered but I said no. I wasn't in the mood." A pause then, "Why?"

"You were drugged. Then somehow there was a 'ritual' performed on you." And he turned away not wanting to say anymore. He was not going to tell him what it involved or more importantly, who.

"Who by?"

Dean gave him a look that Ruby would have been proud of and, raising an eyebrow, also raised a finger to point over Sam's head to the wall. "Oh." Was all Sam said, then after a pause, "If she got in here why not just kill me?"

"We thought of that and we think…."

Sam interrupted him with, "Who thought?"

"Bobby, Ruby and me." He admitted. "We all headed back here when we realised that we'd been sent on a wild goose chase and they'd not really tried to kill us." He thought back. They had hurled rocks and sticks at them, tried to break through the barriers but not one had shot at them. A ring of salt and incantations would not have stopped a bullet.

"You thought what?" Sam prompted.

"That you were to die slow and I was to suffer." He shrugged. "Probably thought it would be more 'fun' that way."

"What makes you think that?" he was not thinking that clearly and wanted it all spelt out for him because all he could truly think of was his stomach. It was sore but hungry. "I'm hungry." He added absently.

Dean wondered, 'How can he think of his stomach at a time like this', and nearly burst out laughing. It was similar to what Sam had asked him on numerous occasions growing up. At the look he received, he shook his head in apology and gestured over his shoulder at the message on the back of the door.

Sam had forgotten about that. He had noticed it earlier and been unable to ascertain its significance. He could not think clearly and did not like the feeling, never mind that he appeared to have had a blackout lasting at least two days. "So?... How did you …break the….spell?" and looked up inquiringly.

Dean had practiced this and hoped that Sam would never find out that he lied to him, and that he should never ever find out why. "Dude. You do _not_ want to know what we made you drink!" laughing as if he found it hilarious.

Perhaps he didn't, but he did need to eat. "Come on." Getting up and getting his jacket. "I'm famished." And left the room without further question confident, as always, that Dean would follow him. They had been following each other around near all their lives.

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TBC...


	8. Chapter 8

**Epilogue**

* * *

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"Stop it!" Sam's patience was wearing extremely thin.

"What?"

"Stop watching me. Watch the road."

"I am."

"I'm all right. I feel fine. You don't have to keep watching me!"

But he did. Dean found that he had to keep checking that Sam was still there, never mind that he was okay. It was the best he could do as he constantly felt the need to touch him for that reassurance but it had only taken a day before Sam had hit him off saying he did not need the help.

He had at first, still being weak and becoming unsteady after a few short yards. Automatically Dean had moved to steady him, sometimes with an arm around his back, sometimes just a hand but he relished the contact, although it also tormented him.

At night it was worse. Sharing a room, watching Sam move around it, he had been caught several times and could not correct his brother when he thought him concerned for his health. The truth was he wanted to look at Sam, he enjoyed watching the play of his muscles as he padded around in a towel or his boxers. He seemed to do it a lot and Dean could not decide if it was a new habit, or more likely, he had just never taken any notice before.

They had kept moving, hiding and barricaded themselves inside whenever they stopped, so they were either in the car together, or in a bedroom. Together. And he was finding it harder and harder not to 'get' hard. He would not be able to admit this feeling he had to anyone, least of all Sam. It had taken him long enough to admit it to himself and, only truly once he had near lost him. Dean felt awful.

He could not see a way to continue and was beginning to despair of things ever getting back to 'normal'. He could not continue being Sam's partner in the hunt, being his brother, being his protector with this feeling growing in him. The knowledge that he had fucked him was becoming too much to bear. He swung from guilt, that he should have done such a thing, to even more guilt, that he knew he wanted to do it again.

The car swerved as he was hit in the face by a realisation. He had to think this through and, ignoring Sam's concerned question, pulled over and jumped from the car. He moved around to the back leaning on the trunk as he doubled over. That had been it. That had been the whole point. Damned if you do, damned if you don't.

He had had two choices. One, let his brother die before his eyes, wasting away in a fever dream of a lost love or two, cure him and be ever conscious that he had committed the sin of incest. And worse, he had enjoyed it. Everyone who remotely knew them well knew how close they were and, with the added advantage of a twisted imagination, would believe it would not take too much to push that relationship closer. Grief on Sam's part. An overwhelming need to nurture and protect on his. That's how they, she, had manipulated him. Sam's grief.

People reached out for comfort at such times, not always in a predictable or appropriate direction. Sam had no other direction. There was only him, Dean. And he had always protected, comforted his younger brother and was unlikely to change at such a time when that need would be so raw.

It had all been thought out to the last detail. He was undone. It had worked. She had not killed Sam but she had destroyed his protector, his confidant and support, because he knew he could not continue. Not if Sam would never let him touch him like that again. And now Sam could not even bare for Dean to look at him! He felt as if he had physically been thumped in the stomach.

"Dean? What is it?" concerned as Sam placed a hand on his shoulder. He was startled as Dean flinched from his touch. He stood back, wondering what he had done. "What can I do? Dean?" his brother finally stood straighter and gave him a look he could not interpret.

"It's not going to work."

"Say again?"

"Sam. It's not going to work. I don't care how hard it's going to be, what I have to go through. But it is not going to work!"

"Okay?" looking at him nervously. "What's not going to work?"

"I'm not going to leave you!"

"Good. I don't want you to." Sam was lost in this conversation, if you could call it that. He got the impression that his words were superfluous. Dean was not actually listening to him but stood up straight, shaking his whole body once as if shrugging something off.

"I love you, bro'." Dean said with finality.

"I…love you too." looking at him askance. If Sam did not know better, he would have thought him drunk.

"Good. That's that then." And Dean got back in the car.

Sam was left standing there, a bemused smile on his face. "Sammy? Get your ass in the car!" and shaking his head in amusement he did.

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So it continued. Drive, rest, hunt, rest and then move on. Always on the lookout for solutions to their problem. Always watching over their shoulder for attacks. Sam got his strength back and seemed to be coping much better with his grief. Still there, Dean noticed, as every so often he would call out in a troubled dream. He longed to go to him but turned away. Awake Sam never mentioned his loss, which in a way worried Dean too as Sam seemed to be determined to be okay.

Dean lay on his bed staring up in the dark. He was exhausted but not the kind that induced sleep. Sam had been restless and had been 'pottering' around the room all evening. Dean had gotten through the six-pack he had picked up earlier but he had not been able to relax with Sam constantly passing in front of the TV in just his jeans. He had begun to think it was on purpose. He'd thrown a bottle at him, but not too hard, as he had stopped right in front of it. "Quit it!" he had yelled at him but then, Sam had gotten ready for bed.

He groaned at the memory of him flexing and bending and once again thought it was all just a bit…too much. It was his imagination he knew. He turned onto his side, away from Sam, and squeezed his eyes closed. He froze, too still to even breathe as he heard movement from Sam's bed. He was not going to watch. He was going to wait for him to settle, then he was going to have to use the bathroom. He had to give himself some form of release.

The covers on Dean's bed were lifted and he froze afresh as the warm body slid in behind him, a hand tracing down his arm to his hand, then under it onto his already stiff prick. He leant backwards, looking over his shoulder into the face so close to his and, this time, he acquiesced to all of Sam's demands.

-==**end**==-

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Thankyou for reading and I hoped you enjoyed, 'To Stay here for a While'.

the catt

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